


heart is worn

by LadyKG



Series: HashiObi Fics [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Drabble, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, One-Shot, Short, Time Travel, but mostly because Obito's being an idiot, mentions of training together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 11:00:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17848220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKG/pseuds/LadyKG
Summary: Obito had been in the past for all of six months before the Senju managed to drag him back to their compound.





	heart is worn

Obito had been in the past for all of six months before the Senju managed to drag him back to their compound. Drag, he had to admit, was not exactly the right word because he had gone willingly, for only to not go with Madara. If he had, well… he wouldn’t have been able to promise the man would live through the experience to say the least.

It had been three months since then. Three months of peace talks and of Hashirama throwing himself into teaching Obito mokuton. Three months of smiles too warm, and hands on him that left trails of scorching flesh in their wake. Three months of Obito blushing and stuttering because he was only human and Hashirama was… well, _Hashirama._ All sun kissed skin and smiles made of pure light. All warm looks and far too many words whispered against his ear as he corrected his stance or guided Obito’s chakra with his own.

Three months before he was able to perform the wooden dragon technique flawlessly. And he smiled. Sent Hashirama a tentative grin of triumph because it _worked_ and had he seen?

Three months of being in Hashirama’s presence and _wanting,_ before the man dragged him into a kiss that set his entire body ablaze.

His breath hitched as their lips brushed. Body forgetting how to breath in the wake of all that was Hashirama. He didn’t realize he was trembling until deft, calloused fingers trailed down to weave through his own. The lips against his pressed more firmly, and after a moment Obito let his open to the pressure, pushing back and trying to ignore the way his chest swelled when Hashirama’s other hand came up to cup the side of his face.

Those fingers brushed against his scars and it all became too much.

With far too much regret he pulled away. Shaking his head at Hashirama’s concerned gaze and stepping back from the warm embrace, not letting the tingle in his lips distract him. “I can’t. I don’t deserve this.” He who destroyed nations. He who brought the world to its brink and pushed for it to fall over the edge. He who would have killed this man’s dream.

He who still wasn’t sure he believed in it.

Hashirama looked at him confused, head tilted to one side, “Of course you do.” The words make his chest _ache._ Hashirama had no idea what he’d done, and yet here he was saying things like – “you deserve love, Obito. You’re breathing, aren’t you?”

Obito blinked, not sure what him breathing had anything to do with this. “You don’t understand,” he choked the words out. The next step he took placed his back against a tree.

“I understand that you’re not as terrible as you think you are.” Hashirama pressed into his space, taking it up with an ease that made Obito’s heart skip a beat. “I understand that you want this, and I am more than willing to give it.”

“I’m- I’m selfish,” he tells the man, tries to make him understand, because Hashirama is anything _but._ Because Hashirama would choose peace over revenge and forgiveness over hate. Because Obito knows he wouldn’t. Had already chosen the other path. His heart was tattered – a broken shell of a thing that had no right to accept Hashirama’s. No right to be selfish enough to want to.

Hashirama only gives him a tender look, not pity or sympathy or confusion or any mixture of what others have given, just… soft. Warm in a way that makes his heart beat strangely in his chest.

“That makes two of us,” Hashirama told him, and Obito wanted to refute, to tell the man he was wrong, but there were lips back on his and a hand tangling in his hair and all at once the words were swallowed by the mouth on his.


End file.
